Posted in Blogging, Writing

Day of the Week-Prompt

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Stew was running late for work! “7 AM! I didn’t hear the alarm go off!” Stew griped. Reluctant to leave his fortress of warm blankets, he retracted the black covers making a bee-line for the bathroom. On the way tripping over clothing, books, electronics, unused sports equipment, as his studio-apartment was a maze only he could navigate.

He could hear his mother in the back of his mind, “You will never land your future wife living in that mess of an apartment. Are you going to bring your date back to a mess like that? You will scare her away! You need to clean it up, Stew. A man your age should be married. You have a career. You need someone to share it all with.”

Tossing yesterday’s take-out in the trash on the way, he made a mental note to take his mother’s advice. Maybe he would start cleaning the place up a bit. The place needed some color. Some good vibes. But not today.

Sleepily, he hurried to throw cold water on his face. “No time to shower.” He thought sarcastically. Staring back at his somber deep-set blue eyes with a curious sparkle of black, he considered skipping brushing his teeth. Grabbing his toothbrush from vanity, he slathered on the toothpaste. He knew Sophia wouldn’t dream of going on a date with him, and his dragon breath.

Then again– Who would want to date a 6’2  Mortician? “A corpse has a better chance of getting a date with Sophia than I do.” Stew mused clumsily throwing on clothes. Looking in the mirror in disbelief, his hair is sticking up straighter than a skunks tail.

“My hair! I forgot to comb my hair!” He shrieked. Slicking it down with his hands.

“No time to pack lunch! I gotta go!  Already 15 minutes late! Goodbye 666 Mundane Lane!” Stew yelled slamming the door.

This is Monday. When I am hung-up and cannot get moving, I am going to work on days of the week. It was a fun prompt!

I am working at fiction.

Comments are encouraged lovely readers.

 

 

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Posted in Writing

Looney Tunes Writing Prompt

You wake up one morning and find yourself inside a Looney Tunes cartoon with a burning desire to hunt down a certain Bugs Bunny, no matter the cost. What happens next?

I wake with the sun’s debut as the rays sneakily evade the cabin through dark blinds. I hear birds singing their sweet morning songs a little too close to my window. I consider telling them to shove off. Or I will stuff them.

Two things are apparent as I spring myself from my place of comfort–  One, I am obviously pretty cranky this morning. Where is the coffee around here? Two, I feel like I should be hunting a rabbit. Can I hunt? I don’t think I have ever liked rabbit. Maybe I have just never tried it.  One comes to mind in my sleepy stupor, I think I will know him when I see him.

I notice I am drooling, and carefully wipe the drool from my chin. I fling myself from the bed. I notice stairs leading down from the cozy little loft. I try to make sense of these unfamiliar surroundings– this hunting cabin. The walls are covered with mounted deer, fish, and any kind of animal breathing. A gun rack is mounted above the impressive built-in fire place holding a couple of engraved Winchester 1873’s. I won’t consider touching those. Nearby a red mahogany gun cabinet sits in the hall, I remind myself to look for the key on the way to the bathroom. It will come in handy hunting down the rabbit.

I find the bathroom nearby the kitchen, which by the way, is nothing impressive. NO coffee pot. Really? Who doesn’t have one of those? My belly growls like some ferocious beast, and reminds me this rabbit has to die! My business is quick. I have no desire to catch up with the outside word, and I skip the shower. This rabbit has taken over my thought process. Must have rabbit!

I run out of the bathroom, and am quick to dress. I throw on my hunting gear, lace up my boots, and grab a hunting rifle. Wondering if I do indeed know how to work one of these things. Guess I will find out! I wonder where he could be, and what he could possibly be doing right now. But it really doesn’t matter. Because I will find him.

When I step out of the cabin, I notice.. I’m in a cartoon??? What! How did I get here?

My hunger overwhelms me as my hunger pangs pierce my gut. My feet take off as if they have the wings of Apollo on them. I look down, and they do. Awesome! This should make it easier. I feel like I am floating on air.

The deer look up from eating grass, and leap away happily. Making sounds like coil-springs. Chipmunks are having a picnic on the grass. That is when I see the tracks… Rabbit tracks.

I follow them through the thick fall foliage. I am careful to be very quiet while I’m tracking, but my stomach growling is not helping. I don’t remember when the last time I ate. In fact, I don’t remember anything passed this morning. Weird.

I see more tracks. I find where the furry cretin lives. I must be getting close when I am whacked with an iron skillet.

When I wake, I see hummingbirds flying over my head. I hear coo-coo. I feel that way. Ow, my head. I rub the knot on the back of my neck that instantly grows as long as Pinocchio’s nose.

I try to move, but cannot.  I am securely tied to a chair. I squint trying to take in my surroundings, but it’s dark. I am underground? In a rabbit hole? What the hell?

A light flashes on, and I realize we are in a living room. Big enough for a rabbit, obviously, though not big enough for a human. It’s colorful. Not a bad bachelor pad, rabbit. TV, recliner, bookshelf.

I look down as if first realizing I AM a cartoon. Glaring into a mirror I notice I am brighter, and sharper in ways I wasn’t before. I like the way I am drawn. Remind me to thank the artist. I think I have grown a cup or two. Although, how did I get here, and why can’t I remember anything? 

“So what’s up, Doc? Why are you hunting rabbit?” A tall, grey talking rabbit asks me. He gnaws on a giant orange carrot with his white-gloved hands, and he looks a little pissed.

I hope you liked it. I have been away for a week!! I was faithful to my writing habit every morning the week before last, then we had company. Still, I found time to work. I’m back with it, again. Getting up early. Still working. Just haven’t had time to post!

I’ll make it back! Hope everyone has been having a good summer!

Posted in Blogging, Life

A Day I Would Like to Forget.

Write about a day you’d like to forget.

Since running into my ex the other day, I have been thinking of why he could not face me. Why after three years, he had to look away. . He is a coward.

Not me. I can fess up to my mistakes. I wish we never ran into each other. It never happens.

I wish I could rewind three years, and take it all back. I wonder if anything would be different. If things with my husband would be better.

Such a liar…

I don’t understand how someone could be so cold. So uncaring. How a person’s words could have no meaning attached to them. He has done this to multiple girls.

It’s not like it was his first offense.

Looking everywhere but AT ME really? It all means nothing now. I would have at least said, “Hey, how are ya?”

It’s done and over now.

If a person has no feelings for the other person, it should not be an issue. Or the other person could just be an asshole. Ha!

 

Posted in Writing

Alice and Tuck.

I wake from my nightmare drenched in my own sweat. Arms and legs sticking to the cotton sheets, I struggle a bit to free myself. The same dream haunts me nightly. The same azure pupils I’ve become lost in for the last fifteen years—captivate me. His strong, muscular arms – hold me prisoner. His tantalizing kiss —enslaves me.

I hear the train whistle in the distance. As the train comes to a stop, the brakes hiss. Tuck stands in his newly pressed uniform handsome as ever. I run my fingers through his short blonde hair. I love the new cut; however, he looks as if he forgot something at home. Maybe he is second guessing his choice. We both promised the other we would not cry today.

“This is only training. I will be back in six weeks before I ship out on tour.” He tells me with a sad smile. He pulls me closer to him by my waist closing the distance between us. We have never been more than five miles apart. Being states away from each other is foreign.

I nod returning the sad smile. I hold back the tears threatening to come at any second, and try not to talk much. I feel like I am choking on them. We stand in an embrace. My head on his shoulder. It feels natural this way. Out of the two of us, he has been the strong one— always.

“Remember Alice, I love you, and it is going to be okay. I’ll see you in a few weeks. I will find a way to communicate, I promise.” His tone is reassuring.

“I love you too Tuck. I believe you. ” Our eyes meet with my reply as he tilts my chin upward. His lips are soft, and tender. When he pulls away, we are both smiling. He leaves me craving more of his sweet kisses.

He is still smiling when he boards the train. I try not to let him see the tears sneaking from the corners of my eyes. He yells , “See you soon!” He looks as if he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. The same puzzled look from earlier appears on his face. For a moment, I wonder if he will jump off the train.

“I will see you soon!” I reply.

I watch the train pull away with the man I have loved since we were children.

Two years ago word came Tuck was dead. Only my heart won’t accept this to be true. Tuck would never leave me.

©  2015 LC

Not sure about this…

Trying to develop more of the Alice and Tuck story. Thoughts are appreciated at any time.

Some backstory: Wedding Day Prompt

Posted in Writing

Challenge Me and Feedback.

Of all the writing prompts previously mentioned in my blog–

The Wedding Prompt-

Today’s Children-

Rough Day —

AND

Martha and John

which one would you like to see developed into a short story?

Also, do you like the layout? I am trying to make up MY mind. I can be a bit indecisive.

Posted in Writing Classes

Today’s Children– Prompt.

Here is a prior prompt to hold you over.

Start out with “Today’s Children…”

“Today’s children should be taught to respect each other, and stand up for each other against bullies. I am proud of you, Kyle, for standing up for Eric today. It wasn’t right of Thomas picking on a child who can’t defend himself.” Elise says as she gently fixes his black eye.

He tried to hide it from her as he sauntered up the sidewalk from school. But Elise standing at her post—the kitchen sick—knew something was wrong the minute she laid eyes on him. He was never good at hiding things from her. He always teased she has the eyes of a hawk.

“But how did you know about Thomas?” Kyle asks fidgeting away from her touch.

“The school called to inform me you were in a fight, and Thomas would be expelled. Even though you were defending Eric, you are also expelled for fighting.” Elise sighs as she finishes bandaging his eye, and looks as his bruised knuckles. “I’d hate to see the other guy, Kyle, though you know fighting isn’t the answer. You know you can’t keep doing this like some vigilante. Standing up for those who cannot do it themselves is great, but you don’t have to get physical.”

Kyle huffs, stands up, and hugs his mom. “It’s just so hard being in middle school. There is so much drama. I’m sorry mom for fighting, but you don’t understand what it’s like there.”

Oh, sweetheart, believe me I’ve been young once. You think because I’m starting to get gray hair, and a few wrinkles I’m old! She motions to her hair and face animatedly. But behind this physical appearance is a younger version of me who has been exactly where you are, I think we can handle this together, okay?”

© 2015 LC

Posted in Writing Classes

Wedding Blog Prompt

Wedding ring-Comedian-Thunderstorm

Flashes of white light streak the sky, as heavy drops of water cascade from the heavens, to the rhythm of my windshield wipers—they struggle to keep up.  An exasperated sigh escapes my lips, I will never make the wedding at this grueling rate.  I run my fingers through my short blonde hair. Checking  in the rear-view to make sure I don’t feel how I look. I have been on the road for days. Taking a personal oath to find Alice, and bring her home. I focus my attention back on driving. Not realizing my fists are in balls.

Bringing me back from my reverie, thunder crashes nearby with white-blue lightning striking an office building not too far down the road. As luck would have it, it is another abandoned office building the city never reclaimed for use. Cars are frantically trying to move out-of-the-way as taxi cabs blare a melody—the song of the city.

Eons ago, Alice promised we’d never live in the city. Here I am, searching for her. On her wedding day- of all days, she thinks I am dead. As my car turns up the drive to the church, I gaze upon the cathedral. We imagined marrying in a church like this when we were young. It’s raining yet, and I pray it was enough to delay the wedding.

The engine off, I look around trying to gauge my surroundings. On the corner, a panhandler telling jokes underneath a bus shelter. He doesn’t seem afraid of the storm. I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t have anything left to lose.

I start walking toward the church realizing both bride, and groom spared no expense. From the looks of the parking lot, they invited everyone they know. The decorations left standing are lavish. The roaring winds swept some away.

I hear the chorus of the cathedral bells, and think I am too late. I hope it’s the wind. I pull the ring out of my pocket, and glance at it one last time. Wondering if I will have the courage to ask her what I regret not asking her before I left  THAT day…dressed in my uniform. Waving from the train. If only I could go back to THAT day.

The doors open, and for the first time I gaze upon her pale face. Her surprise shows on her face as her yellow-brown eyes lock with mine. That moment is ours.  Though it’s not quite the response I was hoping for as she starts to scream. “Tuck! I thought you were dead! This can’t be!”

The church goes completely still. No one knows where to look. At Alice. Or at Me. Or the groom. The music has stopped. In that moment, we are frozen in time. We are all shards of glass. So delicate.

“Can you give us a moment, please, Josh?” Alice says.

Her amber eyes glisten with happy tears. Or maybe they are sad.

“Sure, I will be waiting right here.” He says. Looking confused.  Turning to his best man who puts a hand on his shoulder.

The church erupts in hushed whispers, as we walk toward a darkened room, my stomach turns to butterflies. Her eyes turn to fire.

 

© 2015 LC

Posted in Writing Classes

Rough Day.. Writing Prompt

You’ve had a rough day at work. You head home and go straight to bed, mumbling, “I wish I’d wake up tomorrow and be anyone but me,” before dozing off. When you wake up in the morning, your dream has come true, as you quickly realize that you are not you—you are someone else that you know! Excited to live the day in that person’s shoes, you set off, only to find a day in the life of that person isn’t as easy as you imagined.

The alarm furiously blazes in my ears as I hit snooze another time only to realize my hands are not my own. They are hairy, masculine, and ew! Confused I stumble out of the bed to look around the unfamiliar apartment. Tripping over mountains of clothes, I scurry to find something to wear. Who sleeps in the nude? Good God! It smells as though something may have died in here! I locate the bathroom next to the bedroom from the putrid smell. Finally a mirror, at least I know I am not vain! I stare at the silvery-blue eyes reflecting back at me.

Tucker Coltrain. I am Tucker Coltrain. Great! This should be an easy day. Tucker works with his father, Gerry, running their family business Coltrain & Company. I realize I smell worse than a garbage can. I wonder what transpired last night. How did I end up in this body? I shower and brush my teeth. I need to get moving!

I hurry back into the bedroom to find something suitable to wear. I’m already running late. I should call Gerry to tell him I am running late; however, my cellphone is smashed on the coffee table. That isn’t a good sign. I pull a ball cap over my brown hair. No time to worry about being stylish.

The city is alive this morning with people going places. Everywhere I look I see yellow cabs, hear horns blowing, and a siren in the distance. For a minute, I remember I am going where I work. Me, Kristen, and I can’t go there. Not looking like Tucker. I turn around heading for the subway taking me to Tucker’s work. I arrive too late to board, and wait for the next train. I hope I don’t make Gerry too upset this morning. Maybe I can come up with a good excuse.

By the time I make it to Coltrain & Company, it is nearly afternoon. I can’t imagine Gerry will be pleased. The elevator is out, of course, much to my dismay. In the lobby, I am greeted by a tall blonde woman with a name tag, “Stella”, who I gather is the receptionist.

“Good Afternoon, Tuck. Didn’t think I’d see you in today after last night.”

“Yeah, it has been a rough morning! Is my father in?”

“Yes, he is. But he is with the partners going over last-minute details before the sale is final.” She says as she scratches the back of her neck looking away. “I don’t know if he’d want to be interrupted now, but you can wait if you like.”

“That’s fine, I will wait. That was some night last night, eh?” I ask. Waiting to see how she replies.

“Oh yes, I could tell you needed to let off some steam after your dad decided to sell the company. And it was nice to gather the employees to have a party. Who knows when we will be together in the same place like that again?”

Stella grins at me like she shares a secret she isn’t telling. I wonder how well we know each other.

Posted in Writing Classes

Martha and John, Writing Prompt.

You left Martha waiting for the bus in a winter storm. The bus has just pulled up. The first person off the bus is Martha’s ex-husband John. You’re going to write one paragraph (no more than five sentences) telling what happens next.

The wind howls as snowflakes pour angrily down from dark, ominous clouds responsible for the whiteout covering the town in beautiful hues of whitish-blue snow. “Who knows how long I’ll be left waiting here,” Martha mumbles pulling the hood of her black-pea coat over her head.  Her eyes scan the crowd as the chill goes through her bones—though it’s not from the bitter cold. Her violet eyes lock with a pair of sad blue ones belonging to her ex-husband, John, who waves from across the room as the bus arrives. The memories flood back as she sees John starting to make his way toward her, the brakes hiss,  and Martha runs to the bus to escape.

 

© 2015 LC